Wine, Woman, and all that Jazz…
by Artemis Requiem
Summary: Grace Choi meets Arty at a jazz club...


While it may not initially seem to be her kind of place... at all... the Collyer Jazz Club is not so abnormal a hang-out for Grace Choi, on those occasions when unwinding in a way that doesn't involve sound-induced migraines and hours of dancing is in order. Indeed, the band up on the stage of the club is playing smooth, laid back jazz tunes through the place, and while there's a little bit of dancing on the floor before the stage, Grace is not one of the ones upon it.

Instead, she is pulling a chair up to one of the tables just adjacent to the dance floor, having only arrived moments ago. Trying to get some sense of whether or not a certain red-headed vigilante is actually crazy, sane, or something in between necessitated picking somewhere that /wasn't/ Chaney's to meet her, just in case; there is still a certain amount of soreness regarding the damage that her last 'friendly' meeting there caused. A bottle, tall, slim, unmarked and filled with some brown liquid has been placed on the table before her.

When she received the message during a check in at the Embassy, Artemis wasn't sure what to make of it. A meeting? At a...jazz club? Artemis was a bit puzzled, she was never one for the arts, leaving that more to the other sisters. But what does draw her curiosity is why this woman, Grace, contacted her. Not being one for the art of subtly and the subtler social interaction, she does have a genune wonder as to this meeting. Is it some formal way of a challange? Entering the club, the tall Bana looks about and has no problem spotting the only woman she has known to be taller than she. Making her way across the club, she arrives at the table with her usual tact, "I was told you wished to see me." she says in her usual half-growl, "Have we new business?"

By the time that Artemis arrives, there are two glasses with that liquid on the table; one is before Grace, and one is before the empty seat opposite her. She turns her eyes up towards the (other) Banazon with a faint kind of amusement, and after a small head nod of greeting, she gestures vaguely towards that other seat.

"Does getting drunk count as 'new business'? 'cause if so, we've got it in spades," she dryly replies.

Artemis' usual dour visage actually cracks a bit of a smile. Even among rival warriors the bar table is neutral ground. Sitting down across from her Artemis takes a moment to investigate the bottle, "Well, certainly not Mymose's island wine." She comments before looking back to you, "If this was your challange to me, then I shall meet it in full." Taking up the small glass she eyes it a moment then looks to you again, "What is the custom in your tribe?" Artemis just looked at you.

With a tilt of the head, Grace leans back into her seat and raises her own glass slightly in Artemis' direction. What's in the glass /should/ be whisky, but the smell... the smell is powerful, like regular grain alcohol's cousin from a dying distellery, rocketed to this bottle and these glasses to champion the ideals of inebriation, liver damage, and the hangover's way.

"It's not a challenge, sweetie; just drink. It's kinda strong, but I figure with you bein' you, you can probably take it."

Well everything is a challange for Artemis. She can't help it. But she does try not to think of it so much. Tossing the glass back she pauses a moment and gives that "Essss." sort of look. "By Gaia, that has a bit of a boot to it." She puts the glass on the table, "I like it."

Once her own glass has been similarly emptied - with not so much in the way of surprise or discomfort, given how used she is to the stuff - she grins across at Artemis and sets about refilling both of the glasses.

"Gaia had nothing to do with it; man-made, one-oh-one percent alcohol content... only way I can get drunk. Glad you approve."

"I do approve." Remarks Artemis as she tosses back another, enjoying the new experience immensely. "Among the sisters, we have Bacchinal festivals where each warrior has a jug of wine almost as tall as you!" She grins a moment, "Ok, perhaps not quite as tall."

As her foot asbently begins to tap in time with the music playing in the background, Grace can't help but chuckle softly at the hyperbole.

"What comes after the Bacchinal festival? The 'hug the toilet and wonder what the hell we were all thinking' festival?" she sarcastically asks before downing another glass of whisky and furnishing the both of them with new ones.

Artemis takes another drink, "Well, after you find your toga...or in some cases not, you seek some solace an pennance in the hot springs, then try to find some semblance of food." She seems to enjoy the "family recipe" immensely. "It is quite the sight..." She chuckles as she fills your glass.

There are a few moments of distraction as Grace carefully considers those words, but with a quick shake of the head she eventually manages to clear the thoughts that can't really help but come. The smirk that they elicit, though, that remains.

"'After', huh? What the hell kind of 'festival' is this, exactly?" A beat, and then her smirk widens as she adds, "Not to mention the mandatory post-festival penance." She gulps her whisky down with that, and soon she finds herself unable to avoid mentally drifting again.

Artemis bombs another shot and laughs, "It's a festival to the God of Wine, what do you think? We drink, there is some dancing, more drinking, food, yest more drinking." Sitting back she beholds her shotglass in her hand and smiles as her own mind drifts to the last few, "Unlike this world, the sisterhood has no shame in their bodies." She pours us another round and tosses it back, "Spill blood together, spill wine together. You look like you could handle it well."

Well, that is /certainly/ better than what she had in mind, for good or for ill. As she starts to reach forward to pick the bottle up for more refilling, she winds up hesitating, then finally slumping back into her seat with a low chuckle. Perhaps, after having that many glasses straight, there should be a little waiting before making any sudden movements.

"Please, /some/ of us ain't got nothin' to be ashamed of. We just don't all feel the need to strip down and dance it out to prove it." A beat, and then a faint frown as she glances down at her clothes - replacements for an identical outfit ruined in an unexpected brawl - and then mutters, "Although maybe there's some merit, with the blood-spilling."

Artemis waves a dismissive hand, "Pffft." She says with a bit of mirth, "It's not an orgy. That's what the men of your world tell themselves when they are alone at night. Of course you share with and of your fellow sisters at times, but nothing like your movies and literature seem to make it out to be." She eyes the bottle and points at it accusingly, "You are sent from Hades to waylay me aren't you!"

Looking back to you she appears to explain as calmly one with as many shots in short order can, "I do not hold it against your people, you live in a nation founded by religious puritans. It is in your upbringing. When you live as a warrior, you have little time for such folly. It is more important what sword you carry than what bit you cover."

Before Grace can say much of anything, Artemis is accusing her alcohol of some wrongdoing or another, and as a result, she's got to make with the movement, just enough to lean in and slide the bottle nearer to herself. She, fortunately enough, isn't too unsteady in doing it, in spite of her head doing more than its fair share of swimming.

"So clearly," she murmurs dryly, "you've had enough for now. Also, I know if I was someone else, I'd probably care about covering my bits. I like my bits."

Artemis sits back in her chair and looks to you, "Well your bits are..." she makes a motion with her hand, "Well presented.." Comes her attempt at the wording. Taking a long breath she smiles as you take the bottle away, "I am quite fine...for the moment. I have just never quite experienced the spirts of this place like that. It is...warm."

"Like I said. Beyond pure alcohol," Grace murmurs with a chuckle. There's a quick glance downwards at Artemis' first comment too, but it's mainly dismissed with a small wave of the hand. "You're so fine, anyway, how come you're cursin' it? I mean, goddamn, girl, who does that?"

Artemis laughs at you, it's her first real laugh of the evening. Leaning back in the chair she shakes her head, "Me? I'm a collection of scars held together by sheer will...or so Hippolyta is fond of saying." She ponders a moment, "I am not cursing it, I am simply speaking the truth!" She makes her point with an emphatic smile and point of her finger.

There's a confused glance at the bottle when Artemis points; Grace is just plain not able to see the Hades-borne qualities of the liqour, but given the very large culture divide, she could maybe accept that it is some strange Amazon thing, like star-spangled bustiers and spontaneous Bacchinal festivals.

"Gotta suck, havin' all those scars. Me, I'm smooth as a baby's ass," she murmurs. With that, she unscrews the top of the bottle, and after grinning and adding, "Regeneration's awesome," she takes a quick sip directly from the vessel.

Leaning over the table, the Amazon appears to be inspecting you closely. Perhaps because from her seat it's not the easiest thing at the moment, "Are you gifted from the Gods as Diana is?" She asks, wondering a bit how you remain so unblemished even given the fact you appear formidible. Sitting back motions for the bottle, "Let us share as warriors...not with these miniscule vessels."

"Gifted by DNA, anyway," Grace smirkingly replies as she eyes Artemis' request warily. Figuring that at least the Banazon isn't to the point of throwing up yet, she winds up deciding to push the bottle across the table to her; no doubt, she can probably handle it. The fact that she's being closely inspected is pretty much going over her head now, as well; were she in a more belligerent state, she might be likely to take it poorly, but as it stands, there's simply no cause for it.

Taking along swig, Artemis seems to be finding her stride with the hoock now. Sitting back she smiles and looks to you, "Well you were quite blessed by your Gods.." She remarks. Changing the matter at hand she asks, "So I understand you do mercenary work?"

"Bodyguard. I do bodyguard work sometimes," Grace murmurs. "Mostly for twenty-something brats with too goddamn much money, these days. I try to /avoid/ it if I can help it now. Pain in my ass." Her hands go back through her carefully teased upwards and product-laced hair, and then there is a low, weary chuckle at the thought.

Artemis makes a bit of a scowl as she hands the bottle back to you, "Can't we just let them fall to natural selection?" She asks with perhaps a bit of seriousness in her tone. Amazons have on tolerance for whining, or petty little rich whiners. "You should free yourself from those shackles and use your abilities in a way more befitting."

It takes an especially long gulp from the bottle - which, for what it's worth, is hovering at being about halfway full, now - before Grace is able to offer any kind of response at all, and even then, it has to wait until she's taken a moment to clench her teeth and let the artificial heat of alcohol wash over her.

"Pays the bills sometimes; I like havin' my bills paid. Anyway, I put drug dealers'n shit in the hospital too, so it balances," she mutters.

Artemis nods and shrugs, "There is the benefit of occasional violence, I could see the appeal." She curls her lips in a smile as she looks at you, "I think you just reddened a bit. See! It is possessed with the fires of the infernal." She laughs and takes a moment to finally listen to the music a bit, watching the people sway to and fro, "It is different, this world of men. But not as horrible as I might have once thought."

"'World of men'? Ain't like we gave 'em their own island or somethin'. There's plenty of non-men out here too," Grace says as she pushes the bottle across to Artemis. There's something of a frown as she pulls her hand up to squint at it, looking for some sign of that redness... though when nothing is found, she shakes her head and adds to her thoughts, "God knows the men've got their upsides anyway. Someone's gotta do... the things they do. The janitoring and shit."

Taking a drink, Artemis watches you inspect your hand, "You still have all of your fingers, fear not." Sitting back as she sets the bottle in the center to the table she seems to be soaking in the atmosphere and the alcohol, "I think this is the most at ease I have felt in some time. Perhaps you are right, it is not all bad here. At least when you have attractive and agreeable company." She seems to size you up a moment, "So what formal combat training have you had? I am curious given the way you handled yourself when we first met."

Training, training, training... right! That thing she got to keep her skull from being bashed in on a more or less daily basis.

"A little of everything from all over," Grace replies after some careful consideration. Between trying to decide what kind of response to offer and staring at her fingers with a bit of confusion, there is plenty to think over.

Artemis nods, "Schooling in weapons or mostly unarmed?" She looks at you, "With your size I'd school you in a polearm, perhaps a nice pike. Your reach would be unstoppable." She reaches over and rather forwardly takes your hand and begins to move it about as she looks to your arm, hmmming to herself as she does. Perhaps it's the alcohol, but something sharp still swims in her eyes.

Teally, Grace is rather used to having her arms admired - being proud of them is kind of why she tends to eschew sleeves and has covered her skin in tattoos - so she doesn't really bat an eyelash at having her hand taken and moved about.

"Unarmed. Or, you know, cars, or whatever. Shit usually breaks when I hit other shit with it." She then offers a grin and acknowledges the suggestion by adding, "But I know how to use some weapons. Spear's the only one that really worked good for me."

Artemis nods as you speak, "You'd do well, but you'd need a spear sized to your height so you could maximize it. I bet Io could do you up a fair one." She smiles a bit and then begins to examine your tattoos, "Are they done as trophies from battle or as designation of your status in the tribe?"

"They got done 'cause I figured I wanted 'em, and I figured they'd make me look good," Grace dryly and smirkingly replies. The tattoos, generally, are without any immediate meaning, as they are tribal in nature; at best, the pictures might have some significance, but if they do, she sure as hell isn't aware of it. "I dunno, this green chick gave me a spear once, but it was fake; I don't think I got anywhere to keep a /real/ one."

Artemis nods, offers you the bottle as she sits back, "I think you are the closest person to one of the sisterhood that I have met here." She arches a brow as you mention the "green" one, "Was she green naturally or as you are, painted?"

Stretching a moment she brushes her hair back and sits back in the chair, letting the warm happy feeling permeate through her for the brief respite she allows herself here and now.

It is, essentially, impossible for Grace to stifle at a laugh at the hair cascading down the back of Artemis' chair, considering how likely it is that it's nearing the floor.

"Probably her skin. I dunno that anyone'd-" she takes the time to take a quick sip of whisky, and once it's lowered and being held closely to herself, she finishes, "-take the time to paint themselves up every day like that." She then looks down at herself with a furrowed brow, when the mention of her being at all like Artemis' sisters is actually processed.

"I dunno, there's you, there's Wondy, there's Mini-Wondy... all of you people I've ever seen, you been a little on the pale side for me to match up."

Artemis shakes her head with a laugh, "That is because you have only seen the emmisaries. Why Hippolyta's personal guard Philippus is quite nubian in coloring. We range from all spectrum and appearance, but we are unified as one." She smiles at you, "You'd be quite at home upon the island."

There's a small tilt of the head at the implication behind Artemis' words, and then a dry laugh. After peering at the bottle still in her arms for a moment, Grace leans... far further forward than she has any need to in order to place it back onto the table, and as she leans on it with one hand for support, the other is used to nduge the vessel part of the way towards the other Banazon.

"Yeah, uh... uh, so /why/ are you all the emissaries exactly?"

Artemis takes the bottle and takes a long drink and leans in towards you as well, "Because..." She says with this Marion Ravenwood smile on her lips, "We are tasked with evaluating the path of interaction between the nation of Themyscira and the rest of the world." She sets the bottle on the table, "Plus, I don't think your world could handle the full breadth of the Amazon nation coming upon it."

"Yeah, but one Amazon with a darker complexion..." Grace murmurs thoughtfully... before breaking out into a brief moment of laughter yet again. "'least you all got all your 'parts' unlike the stories. Guess that's gotta count for somethin', right? 'cause God only knows what the world'd do with a bunch of angry onre-breasted chicks."

Artemis chuckles and quite without missing a beat looks down her shirt at her chest, "Still have mine." She remarks with an odd giggle. It's rather unusual for her, "Besides, that was just poppycock dreamed up because people didn't know how to shooty. Everyone knows you just bind before battle if you are going to be in the archery line." She takes another drink, "You should come to the island sometime, perhaps be your own emmisary, see the history of our tribes."

Grace shares in the laughter - perhaps not the giggling, but the rest she can join in with just fine - and with a broad gesture towards Artemis she says, "Yeah, I could tell, I'm just sayin', if it /was/ true." A thoughtful pause, and then another, smaller snicker. "If it was true, I guess you people'd be that much angrier at everything, huh?"

Artemis huufs with a smile and leans on the table, "Hippolyta says I am angry too often as it is. But I don't think I am..." She takes a drink and looks to you with a grin, "What can I say? People as you like to say "piss me off."

She reaches up and moves her hair around from behind her to hang over her shoulder and pile into her lap with a satisfied sigh, "I am not angry now am I? We haven't broken an arm all night..."

Instead of supporting herself against the table any longer, Grace lets herself slide forward along it until her arms are folded and her chin is resting comfortably atop them. There is another small laugh at Artemis' hair - it seems that no matter how it is positioned, it can't really escape being a source of humor for her - and then she offers a very small shake of the head in response to that question.

"Nobody's really been askin' for it. Anyway, 's not like I don't understand, 's not like I don't get pissed off at stuff now and again and pretty much always. Long as they deserve it, right?"

Artemis looks at herself a moment, completely oblivious to her hair so she's lost on the chuckle. Shrugging she leans on the table as well, close to you as she takes another sip and shakes the almost empty bottle, "You know, we are almost out of your special potion. What should we have next?" She remarks with a bit of a lazy smile.

Helping herself to what is actually left of the 'special potion', Grace is not initially able to respond to the question. When the bottle is empty and she's left sort of hugging it against herself by virtue of nestling it in behind her folded arms, she lazily grins and murmurs, "I dunno. I'm feelin' pretty good as it is, and also, we'd have to like, walk somewhere to find something else."

Artemis grins and tries to strike her best intrepid pose, with a bit of a toddle in her bearing, "More to conquer?" She says, perhaps imitating Hippolyta as she offers a hand and points to the door, "We shall.." She pauses and takes your hand with a sense of (if drunken) purpose, "show them no mercy and celebrate our v*hic*tory with wine and song!"

Grabbing Artemis' hand far more powerfully than she might any other person's, Grace forces herself up to her feet. She, of course, wobbles when first getting upright, but once that's taken care of she throws the arm of that hand over Artemis' shoulder for the sake of leading the other Banazon out of the club. She can't really do much more than heartily laugh at the purpose - walking in a semi-straight line is taking a lot of concentration - but it is, at least, a sincere laugh.


End file.
